


Smoke and Mirrors

by slash4femme



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Clothes Kink, Light breathplay, M/M, Sex, Smoking, a small bit of role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:33:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slash4femme/pseuds/slash4femme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>play a game during some down time</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke and Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in October 2009
> 
> There has been a  lot of costume prompts going around it being Halloween season and all. None of those prompts spoke to me but I did end up writing a costume kink fic.beta read by [](http://cardiac-logic.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://cardiac-logic.livejournal.com/) **cardiac_logic** who is both wonderful and awesome.

McCoy’s still not sure how he feels about this. It isn’t the sex that he worries about; it’s the technology. They never had anything like this on the five-year mission. He leans back against the chaise and looks up at the punched tin ceiling and the garish floral patterns that have been stamped into it. McCoy has taken off his jacket and is only in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat. He’s taken off his cuffs, cravat and collar too. In contrast, Spock’s still fully dressed, right down to his gloves, spats, and opera cape, kneeling in front of McCoy, between his slightly parted knees. Spock had pushed McCoy down on the chaise almost the moment they entered the room and undone McCoy’s trousers without preamble or much finesse. McCoy tugs the taller man up for a kiss as Spock’s hands slip into his trousers, stroking McCoy’s cock. McCoy slides his fingers into Spock’s hair, pressing his tongue deep into Spock’s mouth, flicking against Spock’s own tongue, pressing it down so Spock is unable to reciprocate as McCoy plunders his mouth. McCoy finally pushes Spock back slightly and the taller man sinks to his knees, head bending to lick at McCoy’s cock. McCoy groans, eyes falling partly shut as Spock licks down his length, then back up the to the tip to tease at his slit. Spock is always like this, fierce and needy, when they do this here. McCoy wonders what it is about it that turns Spock on, not that the other man would ever say, of course. He thinks it might be the waistcoats. He lets his legs fall further apart as Spock takes McCoy’s cock into Spock’s mouth as far as he can. He feels Spock’s throat contract around him as Spock hits his gag reflex and tries to go past it, and McCoy’s left hand goes down to Spock’s shoulder.

“Easy.” He pets through Spock’s dark hair, notes how the heavy dark suit Spock’s wearing, along with the black opera cape, emphasizes his paleness. “Easy there, love, don’t hurt yourself.”

Spock eases back a little, and McCoy lets his eyes fall shut again as he brings the cigarette that’s been dangling from the fingers of his right hand to his lips and inhales a long draw of smoke. It’s not real, so it’s not doing any real damage to his lungs, but it feels real, just like the heavy carved wood and velvet chaise he’s sitting on does. Just like the fire in the mantelpiece to his left feels real, or the Turkish rug Spock’s kneeling on probably feels real. He exhales smoke and then gasps, hand tightening on the back of Spock’s head as Spock starts sucking in earnest, deep and hard. Spock’s long fingers on his still clad thighs force his legs further apart as Spock moves between them. McCoy’s hand becomes hard on the back of Spock’s head and his hips jerk up, once, twice, and he comes, eyes screwed shut.

He comes back to himself several seconds later when Spock neatly tucks McCoy’s cock back into his trousers. McCoy stubs out his cigarette in a cut glass ashtray, then draws his fingers through his hair and stands, moving over to the sideboard and pouring himself bourbon. He would offer some to Spock but he knows the other man would refuse it. McCoy throws back about half of his drink and then lights himself another cigarette.

“Come here, darlin’.”

Spock rises from where he’s been reclining on the chaise, and moves across the room to stand in front of McCoy, who reaches out and loops one arm around the taller man’s neck, pulls him down slightly and kisses him deeply, exhaling smoke into Spock’s mouth. Spock allows it and McCoy chuckles softly and pats Spock’s cheeks when they pull apart, “You’re too good to me, you know that?” His hand creeps under the heavy layers of cape and jacket to press against Spock’s chest, trace the muscles underneath. He places his glass on the sideboard and takes another drag on his cigarette, hand still tracing across Spock’s chest.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” McCoy tips his head back, exhaling smoke out his nose, “I’d let you take me here on the floor but I’m not sure my back is up to it these days.”

“Anything, Leonard.” Spock’s hand covers the one McCoy has pressed against his chest, twists their fingers together.

“Alright.” McCoy gently pulls away from Spock and walks over to the chaise. He sits down, scooting around until his back is propped up on the arm and he is half lying on it. He smiles at Spock and then holds out his arms, and after a moment’s hesitation Spock comes to him and lies down too, long legs curled slightly and still resting on the floor, his back against McCoy’s chest.

“There.” McCoy murmurs in one pointed ear as he undoes Spock’s trousers, slips his hand in to stroke along Spock’s own erection. His hand slides lower to cup Spock’s balls and he squeezes firmly, listening to Spock’s intake of breath as he balances between pleasure and pain. McCoy’s hand curls around Spock’s erection again, thumbing the head before beginning to pump firmly. Spock’s eyes are closed, his breathing shallow, and McCoy knows he’s already close. Spock never lasts long when they do this, and McCoy knows it’s because Spock gets him off first, that the act of pleasuring McCoy arouses Spock. The thought is electrifying and McCoy presses one hand against Spock’s throat, pressing Spock’s head back against his own shoulder; he presses just a little tighter, listening to Spock’s breathing become shallow, a green flush spreading across his cheeks up to his ears.

“So God damn beautiful like this.” McCoy’s voice is deep and rough from the cigarettes, alcohol and lust, and he nudges Spock’s legs open even further with his knees. He presses just a tiny bit harder on Spock’s throat, and Spock makes a soft whimpering noise and comes.

“There.” McCoy gently eases Spock back into his trousers and does them back up, “Better now?”

“I believe so, Leonard.” Spock sounds slightly winded and he lies bonelessly against McCoy’s chest.

“Good, because we have a meeting with Kirk in thirty minutes. Which means we have just enough time go back to our quarters and take a shower first.” McCoy pushes gently against Spock’s shoulder and after a moment Spock stands and holds out his hand to help McCoy up.

“Computer, end program.”

Everything dissolves around them and McCoy shakes his head; holodecks are something he’ll never get used to.

“So.” McCoy clasps his hands behind his back as they walk down the hall towards their quarters, mimicking Spock. “Explain to me how you kept from jumping me all those times we had to dress up in historical Earth clothes.”

Spock raises one eyebrow at him, and keys them into their rooms, “With difficulty, Leonard,” he tells McCoy, serious as ever, and McCoy laughs.  
 

 

  



End file.
